On Her Way
by Sythlia
Summary: An odd one-shot that surfaced while trying to write the next chapter of Manipulated Variables. An alternate look at the Little Red Riding Hood mythos.


The road lie ahead of her, stretching far and narrow into the shadowy wilderness.

_Pit-pat. Pit-pat. Pit-pat._

Her dirty, calloused feet echoed in the dark of night, one after the other upon the cold concrete that lined her path. It had been an easy trek from the heart of the forest into the outskirts.

Now debris started to get underfoot. Nothing she hadn't dodged before. She had to be careful, careful not to kick that clouded plastic water bottle, or the broken bike chain or the skeletal remains of some bird left in a rusted cage.

For he was listening, ever watchful and always ravenous.

_'He awaits me here. Day after night and night after tomorrow. I wish to return home and he wishes to fill the void within. Funny how much we are alike.' _Her silent thoughts gave her focus in the nearly impenetrable gloom.

The moon snuck out from behind the thick, gluttonous clouds, catching her short red cloak in her steady flight into the dead city resting in the center of the ruined valley. Her footsteps became slower the closer she reached.

Instead of useless knick-knacks and forgotten pets, the shards of everyday life that had once been lie in shambles like everything else. The curled hands of a child still gripping the handles of her training bike. The long, long warped plastic of the brightest yellow that held the remains of those thrill-seekers stopped midway through their slide. The broken doors, the deserted porches, the brown encrusted lawns and the silence of the dead.

On she continued, her heart wouldn't falter. She was stronger than them.

She saw those she might have known at one point. When? She couldn't remember. They were little more than figments of her lost time. There lie the blond bully, so pretty in her chic clothes, now little more than a grinning remnant hanging out of the back of a broken-down grey-blue truck. Or how about that old man with the whitewood cane? He seemed the most peaceful of any she has come across; sitting upright with his skeletal hands resting on the handle of his walking stick. He had been ready for the end and faced it with dignity.

_'You still gave up like the rest. You knew and you did nothing but find a place to stare it head-on. You are at fault just as I am.'_ Her calm green eyes lingered on this resigned spectre for an extended moment until her flight started anew.

She was almost to the center. The middle of night. The focal point of her world. The epicenter of the beginning of the end.

**'Hahaha...'** The mere lick of his voice ricocheting along the mold-encrusted brick walls of the old downtown strip did much to take the wind out of her red sails.

**'There you are. Fire in your eyes and is that the next weapon of my demise, my little cardinal?'**

She planted her cold, hardened feet in a side-stance, her slender hands gripping the leather-wrapped handles of an old crescent scythe.

**'You wield the moon's smile yet have never known that happiness. What will you say to your grandmother when you tell her that this situation was... all. your. FAULT.'**

The sour yellow moon sat over the tall town hall building, lighting the slow destruction that gripped the small downtown crossroads. Walls crumbled in, streetlights flickered erratically, scraps of faded paper tumbled listlessly in the square surrounding the fountain.

The crystal-clear water bubbled, trickled and sprang into the air as it always had. The neglect had not touched it. It remained as pristine and soothing as she remembered. She dared to raise her hopes upon the sight of one of her favorite things.

The dull moonlight distorted, turning shadow into a tangible being of ebon claws, ragged fur and eyes that glowed the same red of his guest. Perched upon the top of the overflowing fountain, the water started to take on the color of his very being.

**'Ah, you have finally come, marching with such determination past the ruin of your own creation. What will it be, my little birdy? That scythe does look mighty sharp.'**

She cut the scythe straight in front of her, retracting it quickly to hold the blade lower in open defiance. Her cold glare cut just as deep as the tarnished blade, mirroring her intentions.

The crimson eyes bore into her, its claws clutching to the white marble of its perch. **'Not one for words? Did you forget those too? It's alright, little cardinal. I will speak for you. I always do.'**

The glistening maw of the wolf-beast mimicked her voice perfectly. The light lilt of her alto voice was an insult after insult on its tainted tongue.

_**'I don't want any of this!'**_

_**'Leave me alone, grandmother! I'm tired of you, of everyone and everything!'**_

_**'Why should I stay? Why should anything remain here anymore?'**_

_**'Why can't I see her again! Maybe this bottle...'**_

"Enough." Her own voice sounded disconnected and foreign to her. "I will end this. I have to."

**'You think you can with that? I am not like the wheat, awaiting the harvest. I will not relent nor be reaped by a blade that is as dull as this town has become.'** The wolf-beast rolled its massive shoulders in visible boredom.

She wasted no time in staging her first attack, nor waiting for more barbed words from the mouth of the fickle wolf-beast. Sliding the worn scythe along the ground, she broke into a dead run towards the fountain. Her bare feet stepped on the carved fish, stepping into the coin-laden water before pushing the entirety of her weight up. The scythe followed her upward, the curved blade screeching along the marble before biting deep into the nebulous dark mane of the wolf-beast's neck.

With a stumbling leap of faith backwards, she managed to find herself out of the fountain, hoping with every fiber of her being that attack would be the final one she would ever have to deal.

**'Hahaha, my little cardinal.'** The wolf-beast raised to its full height along the fountain, the scythe firmly planted in the jugular of its neck. **'I am not the one who bleeds.'**

Her hands reached up to her neck, pulling free the bindings of the red cloak. The simple motion brought forth the warm, tangible weight of her blood along her fingers. She started to speak, lost in the choking gurgle that resulted. She fell to one knee, her green eyes wavering between steel and fear.

The wolf-beast descended the white fountain, its paws clinking with each step taken. Its elongated muzzle sniffed at the heavy iron that flooded the air, awakening the instinct to draw closer. To investigate. To hunger. To consume.

**'Foolish little birdy. How many times have you disturbed my solace with these childish games? Nothing you bring will destroy me; only you will suffer with every action you take.'**

The silent tears of this ever-resilient truth would never come. She knew she was alone in this place. Nothing had changed; she would die only to live again the next night. "Leave me alone."

**'How can I leave in good conscience when my little cardinal is such a delicious feast before me?'** The wolf-beast began to pace a lazy circle around the kneeling girl, its claws clacking softly along the cobblestone road.

She furrowed her brow, straining herself to stand as one bloody hand pushed her from the ground while the other pushed futilely against the damaged gash on her pale neck. She wasn't giving up this time, she promised herself this much.

**'Going to fight me again? Going to insult me to death? That didn't work either.'** Its voice sounded ambivalent, the flash of its eyes kept firmly on the wavering slip of a girl standing in its presence.

"Who..." Her words were lost to her now, becoming little more than bubbling gurgles.

**'See the truth, little birdy. And you will see. Or close your eyes. You're good at that.'**

Her green eyes narrowed, starting to lose her sense of balance as the mortal blow to her existence would not wait for her inner machinations. Her bloody hands flailed out from her, her sticky fingers found the dark matted fur of the wolf-beast.

Her face buried into the stiff mane awkwardly as the entirety of her being crashed forward in the shadowy creature. She breathed in, feeling an odd sense of nostalgia despite the blood making it hard to distinguish the smell exactly.

It was of home. Of warm oatmeal cookies. Of sunsets and homework by the fountain. And through it all...

Grandmother.

The black fur receded. The claws silenced. The maw disappeared. Only the gentle hold of an older woman held her now.

"So you finally understand, my little bird. I've been waiting for you to. Why don't you come sit down and rest by the fountain?"

The girl gave a slight nod, leaning heavily against her grandmother for the slow shuffle to the fountain. She was lowered to the ground, resting back against the fountain as her benefactor her sat directly on the fountain's edge.

"There, much better, yes? Before you go and doze off, make a wish." The grandmother offered, pulling a nickel from her floral apron pocket.

_'A wish?' _She tried to manage a slight smile, unknowing if it ever became more than a thought.

At that very moment, the darkness parted, giving way to an accelerated day to stop right before another unique sunset on the horizon. The homework she would always do with her grandmother rested in her lap along with a newspaper clipping and an empty bottle.

The grandmother smoothed her wizened hand over the auburn of her granddaughter's head. She gave her a knowing nod, her smile as warm as fresh oatmeal cookies.

"Home."


End file.
